


dedication

by sextile



Series: something sweet, a peach tree [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Overworking, Second Person, no plot just ocean metaphors and bokuto hug, you are akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sextile/pseuds/sextile
Summary: You are not ocean. You are not gravity, nor sea creatures, nor the sudden, endless, vastness of the stretching, yawning, sea surrounding you.Akaashi needs a break.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: something sweet, a peach tree [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047079
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	dedication

**Author's Note:**

> for my friend, who goes through more than i could ever imagine but still manages to get sunflowers to look their way

The yellow street lamps and red car lights blur together as you feel your mind slipping from your gasp. Your head nods, swaying between the two ends of half-sleep. 

The taxi driver looks at you, concern clear in his eyes. You watch as he opens his mouth then shuts it, and you’re grateful. Any question from a taxi driver that isn’t ‘ _ where are you going?’  _ is too personal. 

You check your phone. Eight unread messages from Bokuto.

**[ 18:03 ]** _ akaashi i saw a cat on the way home that reminded me of you!!! _

**[ 18:03 ]** _ [image attached] _

**[ 18:10 ]** _ three people asked me for my autograph :D _

**[ 18:31 ]** _ I THINK I FORGOT MY KEYS  _

**[ 18:46 ]** _NEVERMIND !!!! THEY WERE IN MY LEFT POCKET NOT MY RIGHT !!!_

**[ 19:05 ]** _ i miss u _

**[ 19:16 ]** _ pls dont stay at work late !! i love i !!!! _

**[ 19:54 ]** _FUCK I MEANT U !! YOU !! I LOVE YOU_

It’s 10pm. You had spent four hours overtime.

Pressing your cheek against the window of the car, you wonder how Bokuto has dealt with you for so long. The window is cold and the trails of water awkwardly slip down––the beginnings of a downpour. You can’t even get home on time and you still have to walk down the street and fumble with your keys outside the door. 

There is so much to do.

So much, too much. Everything bleeds together.

You pay the driver and get out, and close the door, and walk down the street, and take out the keys from your back pocket, and insert them, and open the door. You feel like crying. Or maybe you already are.

You don’t notice when the floor comes up to meet your face. You don’t notice when Bokuto runs to you, the concern of a stranger’s eyes mirrored in the wide eyes of your boyfriend. You don’t notice when the weight of your work catches up to you, days and weeks and months piling on in a second. 

You pride yourself on being observant, but maybe you’re just stupid.

Nothing feels real when Bokuto carries you to the bedroom, setting you on the bed and taking off your shoes. He returns a moment later. Or maybe it’s an hour later. You don’t know.

Your limbs don’t move how you want them to, and it’s like you’re dragging your body through thick mud, every inch of your body caked in wet dirt. Why did it have to be now? You have a deadline tomorrow. Why couldn’t your body hold out a little longer?

Bokuto sits you up against the headboard, bringing water to your lips. He places the glass on the bedside and wraps you in a hug. 

“Keiji, it’s okay to take care of yourself,” he murmurs, strong arms steadying you. You who seem to insist that you swim in the crashing waves of the ocean. 

But you can only swim for so far. 

There’s a point where breathing becomes laboured and the will to even stay afloat drops to the ocean floor. Everything becomes heavy, too heavy. Heavy like the glare of the clouds on your face and chest. Heavy like the sun’s overbearing smile, rays reaching out, hands closed to your own. Heavy, constantly, continuously, heavy. 

And the blue-green of the water becomes your enemy, pressing down on you. Gravity calls drowning a gift and sea creatures call it a hug. The ocean calls it home. 

But you are not ocean. You are not gravity, nor sea creatures, nor the sudden, endless, vastness of the stretching, yawning, sea surrounding you. You are not water. You are not sand nor seaweed nor boat. You are human. You are flesh and blood and bone, and fragility and strength are opposite ends of a fine line that makes a circle. You are lonely and whole and terribly, terribly human. 

It is wanting that makes you human. It is wanting to float. It is wanting to drown. It is wanting to swim with dolphins and wanting to find out how big a whale actually is. It is wanting to cry, salty tears mixing with saltwater that dance with vulnerability and fear and desire. It is wanting to sink, and rest, and fall, and fall, into the arms of your terribly, terribly, human boyfriend. 

Your terribly human boyfriend that holds you like how cliff rocks keep a lighthouse steady. Your terribly human boyfriend who you think is crying as well, but you can’t blame him. He’s always been the one to cry first and think later.

(it’s endearing and so, so lovely, really.)

The way your chest shakes as you cry makes you wonder if you ever really had control over your body, but Bokuto keeps you steady. He has always been the first and the last person to keep you steady, to keep you grounded. To remind you of your body, of your hands. To remind you that you _ exist. _

You always want to give back, but for now, you let him hold you. 

He rubs your back until your shaking subsides and you melt into his chest. You sniffle and clutch at his shirt, feeling weak, and drained, and tired. “Sorry, sorry that you’re wasting time.”

Bokuto pulls back suddenly and looks at you with red rimmed eyes and a frown. “But I’m not wasting time! Taking care of you is never a waste–– it’s important and I really should do it more often.” 

You look at him with blurry vision, tears and terrible eyesight doing a number on your ability to see. His eyebrows are furrowed and his bottom lip sticks out slightly. Something about his pout makes a giggle slip from your lips.

“Keiiijiiiii,” he whines, hands dropping from your shoulders. “Don’t laugh at meeee.”

“Sorry, Bokuto-san,” you say a little breathlessly. “You’re . . . cute.”

He grins and cups your face. “And you’re cute and beautiful and gorgeous all at once.” 

Bokuto kisses you gently, wiping away the remnants of ocean waves left on your cheeks. He holds you like you’re about to float away and he holds you like you’re water slipping through his fingertips. And you let him, because you hold him like he’s rock. Like he’s stone and cliff and light. Like he’s sky and moon and sun. 

Like he’s a star that chose you as his world, and will choose you, over and over again. 

**Author's Note:**

> tysm to ares, skai, addie, luci and leo <33


End file.
